


Return on Investment

by LadyRhiyana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne makes an unholy bargain with Jaime and Cersei, F/M, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: She should have refused Jaime’s offer.But Tarth was more important than fine scruples.[Or; Brienne marries Jaime for his money.]**Chapter 7: Interns Brienne and Cersei spend three months working at Lanniscorp.**Please note this fic will no longer be updated.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 108
Kudos: 185





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All, I am reposting this story anew after a very weird glitch occurred. Thanks to all who left kudos and comments on the original version! 
> 
> For those who are newcomers to the story, it does contain Jaime/Cersei - so fair warning if you'd like to leave now.

The island of Tarth was a tropical paradise.

Sun-seekers and honeymooners came from all over Westeros – and even from the Free Cities – to lie on the pristine white beaches and swim in the crystalline blue waters or surf the perfect waves, to hike up the soaring hills and explore the many hidden wonders of the rainforests.

The island offered something for everyone: spectacular views and landscapes for photographers; the perfectly-restored heritage-listed Evenfall Hall for history buffs; the strip of bars, nightclubs and backpackers hostels in Morne for the young and wild.

**

She should have refused Jaime’s offer.

But Tarth was more important than fine scruples.

**

Strange to think that only ten years ago, Tarth had been a quiet, sleepy backwater, its beaches and surf breaks known only to its locals. The islanders were poor, hardy folk, dour Stormlanders used to doing it tough; most of the young people left for the mainland as soon as they could, lured away by the bright lights and higher wages of Storm’s End or even King’s Landing.

Brienne’s father, the ancestral lord of Tarth – inheritor of an old name, a crumbling castle and massive debts – had tried for many years to find investors, but the task of building and developing industries to create jobs and generate revenue would have required a massive injection of capital up-front with no sign of return for many years – and so it was not surprising, really, that he failed.

None of this really meant much to Brienne, growing up wild and carefree on an island paradise. She’d run down to the water every morning before school to swim and surf; she’d hiked through the hills and the rainforests on the weekends; she’d roamed the ruins of Evenfall Hall, imagining that she was an ancient knight, kneeling before a handsome king.

It was only when she grew older, in her last years of high school, that her father took her into his confidence. When she was sixteen, he left for Braavos to try to persuade the Iron Bank to extend his credit. The lines of worry on his face and the premature streaks of grey in his hair convinced her that she had to do something, _anything_ to help him.

**

She’d studied business and economics at university, rather than mediaeval history, her true passion.

She’d pushed herself to attend all the right parties and mixers. She’d made useful contacts. She’d networked.

She’d married Jaime Lannister for his money, and she’d gritted her teeth and asked Tywin Lannister for his assistance and advice.

**

And now, long years later, it had all paid off.

**

So why was she so miserable?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brienne is somehow assigned a male roommate.

Brienne found her own way to King's Landing University. She packed her few belongings into her cheap, sensible car, drove over to Morne to catch the ferry to Storm’s End, and from Storm’s End made her way to King’s Landing. On the first day of Orientation Week, she drove herself from the tiny hotel in Flea Bottom to the campus.

She carried her luggage up to her room all by herself. All around her she saw other first years surrounded by their loving parents and siblings; it was impossible to escape the sounds of loving farewells and best wishes.

Her father had gone to Braavos again. He’d offered to reschedule his audience, arguing that her first day of university was much more important, but Brienne had only laughed and said that she thought it would be an adventure.

Still. She would have liked to have him here. To pose for embarrassing photos and roll her eyes when he became sentimental. It would have been comforting.

But here she was, on her own, and she must make the best of it.

The sound of feminine voices and laughter echoed in the hallways, and everywhere she looked there were women talking, calling out, greeting each other with hugs and smiles. Though she would never admit it, Brienne had chosen an all-female college in the hope that she might find – something. Companionship, maybe.

She was looking forward to meeting her assigned roommate, Jaime. The information package said that she shared Brienne’s interest in fencing, martial arts and mediaeval history. Brienne had a mental image of a fellow outsider, someone she could talk to – someone who might even become the friend she’d never had.

But that was before she opened the door to their shared room, and saw –

“Gods!” she said, dropping her luggage with a thud. “You’re a man.”

– a tall, golden, undeniably male person lounging on the other bed.

Jaime – _male_ Jaime – only blinked. “So I am,” he drawled. “Is that a problem?”

“This is an all-female college!”

He shrugged. “I did wonder about that,” he said. “I thought it was a bit odd.”

**

They called a general meeting of the college. A sea of faces came, women from all over Westeros, looking curiously at the misplaced golden male in their midst.

Most of the looks were distinctly approving.

“It appears to have been an error in the rostering system,” the university spokesperson said. “We’ll try to get it cleared up as soon as possible, however the computers are currently experiencing heavy overload. It may not be for a few days.”

Margaery Tyrell, a pretty, bright-eyed woman with a wicked smile, said that she had no objections at all to his presence. There was scattered laughter, and other students called out their agreement.

Jaime tried and failed to look modest. He gave them all a flashing grin.

When the meeting broke up, Brienne saw another woman, tall, golden-haired with Jaime’s green eyes, her features so identical that they could only be siblings – most likely twins – whisper in the spokesperson’s ear and slip something into her palm.

**

“You didn’t speak up at the meeting,” Jaime said, when they were back in their room. “Even though you’re the one most affected by my presence.”

They were sitting on their respective beds – or rather Brienne was sitting with her arms and legs folded defensively, and Jaime was sprawling like a golden god. The hem of his t-shirt was riding up to show his flat, muscled abdomen, smoothly tanned.

Brienne frowned. “Would it have made a difference?” she asked.

“Perhaps. If you’d raised serious objections, they might have found me alternate housing. I might even have paid for it myself.”

She eyed him disdainfully. “No doubt you could afford to,” she said, sniffing. Every inch of him spoke of wealth and arrogance and privilege. “What’s your name, anyway?”

He opened his mouth to make a smart remark. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t say ‘Jaime’. Your last name.”

She felt his eyes on her. There was a curious weight to his gaze. “Lannister,” he said. “Jaime Lannister.” And then, even more deliberately, “Of Casterly Rock.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she didn’t care who he was or where he was from. But – she had come to university to save her island, and that meant making contacts and learning how to leverage them into money. And the Lannisters of Casterly Rock were one of the wealthiest families in Westeros.

She bit back whatever she had meant to say, and told herself it was only for a few days.

When she didn’t rise to the bait and snap back, he smiled – but there was something practiced and polished about it, and it felt curiously lacking in warmth.

**

Perhaps if she had risen to his bait, he might have formed a better first impression of her and actually made an effort to straighten out the mistake. Jaime was quixotic like that, she would come to understand later. He didn’t like to involve innocents.

Perhaps if his sister hadn’t bribed the spokesperson.

Perhaps if Brienne had actually raised an objection to her male roommate, instead of being too bemused by his unlikely presence, the university might have taken her wishes into account.

Whatever the reason, the mix-up was never cleared up.

**

Four weeks into the semester, they’d all become used to Jaime’s presence.

He’d helped Elia Martell carry her books up to her room, earning a sweet, gentle smile from her and a kiss on the cheek. He’d fixed a loose shelf for Margaery Tyrell, his shirt riding up and his sleek muscles flexing.

He came down to breakfast in the mornings without his shirt on, unshaven and his hair every which way. No one complained.

“I think he’s a perfect gentleman,” Sansa Stark said dreamily, over post-hangover Sunday brunch. “You’re so lucky to have a brother like him, Cersei,” she breathed. “My brothers are all mannerless barbarians. My sister, too,” she added.

Cersei Lannister, Jaime’s twin sister and so identical they’d once switched clothes on a dare at a college mixer without anyone noticing, only smiled. “And how is he as a roommate, Brienne?” she asked sweetly. “I do hope he doesn’t bring girls back in the early hours?”

Brienne smiled back, just as sweetly. “No girls,” she replied. “No boys, either.”

In fact, she was beginning to wonder. Jaime was bewilderingly hot, and every woman Brienne knew – even those who were otherwise inclined – watched him with avid interest, but Brienne had yet to see a single indication that he was interested in anyone.

He rose early in the mornings and swam laps in the university pool. He had martial arts and fencing lessons in the evenings, the same time as Brienne, and sometimes afterwards he went for a drink with his friends Addam and Bronn. He even went to his classes and did some studying. And when he could he spent time in Cersei’s room – rumour had it that Cersei had run her roommate off – doing whatever it was twin siblings did.

Braiding each other’s hair, Ygritte and Yara thought. Trying out clothes and putting make up on each other. Margaery thought they were hatching plans for Cersei to take over the world. Sansa, more charitable, said that it was nice to see brothers and sisters spending time together. My brothers would all rather be out playing sport or drinking with their mates, she sighed.

Back in the present, Cersei looked like a sleek, satisfied cat. Or a lioness. “Excellent,” she purred. “I’m glad you find him so ideal. I take it you’ve decided that he can stay with you?”

Brienne shrugged irritably. “Oh, why not,” she said. “He may as well.”

She did not think to wonder, then, why Cersei looked so triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the classic "the university assigned me a male/female roommate because of their gender-neutral name and we never got round to fixing things up". It's an oldie but a goodie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime makes an investment.

Brienne hated her classes.

The lecturers looked at her as though they had no idea why she was there. The other students were all driven and ambitious, their minds always on the main chance. Half of them were rich and entitled, and the other half were poor and desperately determined to prove themselves – but they were all united in their disdain for Brienne.

Jaime was studying mediaeval history. He shared his course materials with her and let her borrow his textbooks when she could no longer stand her own.

“Being a rich and entitled trust fund baby,” he said with a lazy grin, “I have no need to prove myself. Besides, Cersei is two minutes older. She can be Father’s heir.”

Brienne could easily imagine Cersei at the helm of Lanniscorp. Jaime’s sister was razor-sharp, unfairly beautiful and an absolute steamroller, crushing anyone who stood in her way. But for some reason, perhaps because Brienne was Jaime’s roommate, Cersei had taken an interest in her.

“Cersei says I should stop dressing like a tramp,” she grumbled.

Jaime was lying back on his bed, dressed in a soft, threadbare grey hoodie and long track-pants. He sat up, swung his feet to the floor with lazy grace, and subjected her to a critical once-over.

“You do dress like a tramp,” he said.

“Well, so do you!” she retorted, stung.

“Yes, but I’m a Lannister,” he said with supreme and maddening self-assurance. “We don’t care what anyone else thinks. You, on the other hand, obviously care very much – you’ve got to stop holding yourself like you’re apologising for your very existence.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not beautiful like you, Jaime.”

He laughed. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said. “There’s no one like me.”

She threw her pillow at him.

***

“Still,” he said later, “Cersei’s not wrong. If you wear better clothes and hold yourself with more confidence, the others will stop looking down on you.” He looked her over again. “You should ask her to go shopping with you.”

He pulled out his phone.

Her eyes went wide. “No. Absolutely not. Jaime–!”

She launched herself onto his bed and straddled his torso, trying to pin his arm down and snatch the phone. He fended her off, twisting beneath her and exclaiming – “get off me, you – you wench!” he gasped, as they rolled over and over, first Brienne on top and then Jaime, until they were both laughing uncontrollably. Finally they rolled too close to the edge and fell off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thump. She shrieked with surprised laughter – and then laughed even louder as their neighbour, Margaery, thumped on the wall and told them to keep it down.

“All right,” he said, when they’d finally calmed down. “Not Cersei then. I’ll introduce you to my tailor – and pay for your first proper clothes.”

“I couldn’t possibly–”

He only sighed. “Think of it this way: you want to save your island. Well, if you’ll accept monetary assistance for Tarth, why won’t you take it for yourself? Think of it as an investment in you.”

“Thank you, Jaime,” she said solemnly. “I’ll pay you back.”

He smiled crookedly. “I know you will.”

***

Jaime paid for one properly fitting suit and a classic black dress. He talked her into wearing heels and taught her how to walk in them – only laughing when she asked how he had learned.

He gave her tips on networking and how to mix and mingle, although she wasn’t sure how exactly _the lion does not care for the opinions of sheep_ applied.

“Look,” he finally said. “I’ll come with you to the next one.”

She laughed. “Do you even own a suit?”

“Dozens of ‘em,” he drawled. “I’ll get one flown over from Casterly Rock.”

And so the next time she had to attend a social event, Jaime went with her. “Listen, Brienne,” he said, drawing her aside before they made their entrance. She had to duck her head slightly to listen to him; in her heels, she was a few inches taller. “You and I, we’re a team, okay? Do you trust me?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his.

“Then trust that I’ll get you through this.” He squeezed her forearm. “I won’t let them eat you alive.”

She smiled tremulously at him. “You and me,” she promised.

They went in together, arm in arm.

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyle Hunt tried to flirt with her during their study sessions. Mark Mullendore began bringing her coffee for their 8am lectures. Ben Bushy tried to chat her up at the student bar and bought her four glasses of wine.

Slowly, with Jaime’s help and coaching, Brienne began to feel more confident with the unwritten, unspoken rules of mixing and mingling and working a room. She stood taller and stopped hunching her shoulders. She smiled and chatted. She laughed in all the right places. She schmoozed.

With Jaime on her arm, golden and charming with his lazy, sharp smile, she felt as though she could do anything.

_We’re a team, okay?_ he’d said.

The memory of it never failed to warm her.

She grew in confidence in her studies and in her social interactions. Now that she had properly fitting clothes, and she was holding herself straight, no longer – as Jaime put it – apologising for her very existence, she began to attract attention.

Hyle Hunt tried to flirt with her during their study sessions. Mark Mullendore began bringing her coffee for their 8am lectures. Ben Bushy tried to chat her up at the student bar and bought her four glasses of wine. She was so distracted by the strangeness of it all that she drank them without thinking, and then – and then suddenly Jaime was there, gathering her up, snarling at Ben to _fuck off and tell your cunt friends it’s over, I’m warning you_.

“Why’re you so angry?” she asked, leaning heavily on him as they walked slowly back to their dorm. Jaime was strong enough to take her weight. She liked that. “Men c’n chat me up if I want.” She peered at him, her eyes blurred: his hair was mussed, his lips were red and swollen, and there was a fresh mark on his throat. “Looks like you w’re in the middle of something.”

She felt him draw in a long breath.

“Never mind,” he said. “Come on, let’s go home.”

She put her head down on his shoulder and sighed. “You smell nice,” she mumbled. “I like that perfume.”

It was the last thing she remembered.

**

In the morning she woke to a splitting headache and a roiling stomach.

A slim white hand held out a glass of water and an aspirin. She took both with real gratitude, and after about five minutes or so had the strength to lift her head and thank her unknown benefactor.

It was Cersei. Of course it was Cersei. Sitting on Jaime’s unmade bed, perfectly dressed and made up on a Sunday morning, her green eyes sharp and scrutinising.

“The gods alone know why, but Jaime likes you,” she said without preamble.

Brienne squinted at her. “Thanks? I mean, I like Jaime too.” She forced herself to sit upright. She was still wearing her clothes from last night: jeans and a blue blouse. She sniffed at the blouse; she thought she could still smell the perfume Jaime’s unknown date had been wearing. Beneath that, she imagined she could smell Jaime himself.

“Then I’ll give you a little word of advice,” Cersei said, leaning forward. “Stay away from Hunt, and Bushy, and Ambrose and Mullendore.”

Brienne blinked. “Okay? But – why?”

And then Cersei told her about the bet.

**

She spent the morning huddled up in bed feeling sorry for herself.

Eventually Margaery and Sansa and the others dragged her out to face the world, promising greasy breakfast food and hair of the dog. Haltingly, Brienne explained what Cersei had told her, and they all agreed that men were bastards and Bushy, Hunt and co. in particular were cunts.

“Except Jaime, of course,” Margaery said.

They all laughed and clinked their glasses together, agreeing that Jaime could be an honourable exception.

“It’s a good thing he showed up when he did.” Sansa patted her hand.

Just then, Jaime walked back through the entrance, dressed in his usual track pants and white shirt. But – his lip was cut and swollen, and his shirt was stained with dirt and grass and blood.

“Jaime!” Elia beckoned him over imperiously.

“Ladies,” he grinned, sharp and savage. There was blood on his white teeth, and his knuckles were bruised and bloody. He turned to Brienne, and the vicious grin faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said. “A little humiliated, but –”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Fuck that. Those cunts aren’t worth a moment of your time. And besides,” he said, dropping into one of the free chairs, “they won’t bother you again. I made sure of that.”

There was a moment of silence. Sansa’s eyes widened, and Ygritte’s gaze was frankly intrigued.

“Hell, yes!” Margaery whooped. “To defending Brienne’s honour!”

They all cheered and drank again. Brienne blushed a little, but smiled, thankful for the support of her friends.

**

“Did you know?” Brienne asked him, later that day.

They were sitting on the green lawn, their backs against an old shady tree. The afternoon sky was blue and dotted with clouds, and Jaime was idly uprooting daisies, splitting the stems open with his thumbnail – an old habit, perhaps. Did they make daisy chains in the Westerlands?

“It was – a pretty open secret,” he admitted. “I thought it was just a stupid prank. I thought they’d lose interest after a while. But then they began competing with each other. When Addam said he’d spotted Bushy buying you drinks–”

He trailed off. “I meant it, you know,” he said. “When I promised I wouldn’t let them eat you alive.”

She smiled tremulously. “You and me against the world,” she promised, patting his arm.

**

Caught up in her own tentative imaginings, she didn’t see the way his smile faded, afterwards.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne discovers Jaime's secret.

“There’s something I should tell you,” Jaime said into the darkness.

It was very late. Brienne was tired. She had an exam in the morning and her mind was filled with figures and equations.

“Tell me later,” she yawned.

**

Two days later, Jaime said: “Brienne, listen –”

But she had her headphones in, and couldn’t hear him.

**

Twice in the next week she smelled the familiar perfume on Jaime, but she was caught up in her own concerns and had little time to twit him about his unknown girlfriend.

**

But then one day her class was cancelled and she returned early to the dorm. She walked up the stairs, lost in her own thoughts, and almost ran into Jaime as he came out of Cersei’s room.

His cheeks were flushed. His shirt was inside-out. He yawned, lazy and sated.

Her gaze darted from Jaime, obviously post-coital, to Cersei’s door and back again.

“Jaime?” she asked faintly, not quite understanding.

He started, his eyes went wide, and then he gripped her arm with bruising force. “Ow!” She tried to pull away, but he dragged her inside the room and slammed the door behind him. 

Cersei was lounging on the bed, her hair loose and tumbling over her white satin robe, looking just as lazy and sated as Jaime. She looked up, wide-eyed panic turning to outrage, as Jaime burst in on her with Brienne in tow –

“Jaime!” she hissed. “What are you – what is _she_ doing here?”

“She _knows_ , Cersei.” Jaime let go of Brienne’s arm and ran his hand through his hair.

“I don’t know anything,” Brienne said faintly. “Are you and Jaime…?” she trailed off, stunned by the enormity of it. “But you’re –”

She sat down heavily on Cersei’s desk chair. She looked from Jaime to Cersei and back again: two golden creatures, mirror images, utterly identical – her mind threw up an image of them entwined, and with the scent of the perfume _– Cersei’s perfume_ – heavy in the air it was all too easy to imagine.

Jaime’s mysterious girlfriend. All that time they’d thought he and Cersei were braiding each other’s hair, or plotting world domination, they’d really been –

“But you’re _brother and sister_ ,” she burst out.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cersei said impatiently. “Don’t be so bloody pedestrian.”

“Brienne.” Jaime knelt beside her chair, looked up at her urgently. “You can’t tell _anyone_ about this. You have to promise. If our father finds out –”

He looked panicked.

“No,” Cersei said. Her voice was deceptively calm. “No, you won’t tell anyone.” Her eyes were bright, burning green.

“Cersei –” Jaime began.

“You want to save your island, don’t you? Well.” Cersei smiled. “Here’s your chance.”

“What?” Brienne felt dazed, still reeling from shock. “I’m not going to – to _blackmail_ you.”

“No, you won’t.” Cersei stood up and prowled over to Brienne, leaned over to whisper in her ear, so close that Brienne could feel the warmth of her skin. Her perfume made Brienne’s senses swim dizzily. “Because if you tell _anyone_ , Brienne Tarth, I’ll see your precious island razed to the ground.”

“Cersei!” Jaime snapped.

Cersei pulled back and smiled sweetly. “Think of it as – mutually assured destruction.”

Brienne stared at her.

“Go on,” Cersei said. “Make an offer.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an unholy alliance is formed, and Jaime's nose is broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still with me and reading after the revelation of the last chapter, thank you. I promise the endgame is J/B.

“I want to save Tarth,” Brienne said, her voice sounding thick and strange. 

“Yes, yes.” Cersei rolled her eyes. “We all know that – be more specific. How much money will it take? What sort of investment?” She grabbed a leather-bound journal and an expensive pen from her desk, shoved them into Brienne’s hands. “Go on.” 

Brienne flushed. She was still processing the fact that Jaime and Cersei were – were – 

“Start at the beginning, Brienne,” Jaime said, still kneeling by her chair. He was so close that she could smell him. Him, and Cersei’s perfume, and the smell of – 

“Make a list.” Jaime’s voice jolted her back to reality. “Start at the beginning. What’s your very first priority?” 

She fiddled with the pen, thinking furiously. “First of all,” she began slowly, “we need to get the Iron Bank off our backs. Not the whole loan, perhaps, but we’re behind in repayments and the interest is crippling – if we could at least get back to an even footing…” she trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. 

“How much will that take?” 

Brienne flushed. “10 million dragons by the end of the month.” 

Jaime and Cersei exchanged glances. There was a furious sort of telepathic sibling communication going on – pointed glares and raised eyebrows – until Jaime made a face. “That can be done,” he said. 

“Money on its own is nothing,” Cersei said. “You need a seat at the table.”

Brienne swallowed uncomfortably. She was completely unused to this. Boldly stating what she wanted felt almost like she was being – greedy. Over-ambitious. 

“I want contacts,” she said, greatly daring. “Access. I want – I want you to introduce me to your father. I want to see how it all works.”

Cersei’s brows flew up, and she smiled – slow, cruel and even approving. “Better,” she said. “Is that all? Ten million dragons and an introduction to our father?” 

“I want an internship at Lanniscorp,” Brienne blurted out. 

“Be more specific,” Jaime said lazily. “Else you’re like to spend all your time in the mailroom. ” 

“I want to work with him.” She looked at Cersei, fierce and ambitious and in all probability the next CEO of Lannsicorp. “Whatever internship or arrangement you have with him, I want it too. I want to learn everything I can.” 

Cersei’s brows rose again. “Oh?” she asked – this time with a hint of respect. “Anything else?” 

“Long term investment in Tarth.” Brienne felt as though she were flying, inwardly shocked at her own daring. “We need infrastructure and development. We have the potential for tourism and primary industries. There are marble mines, and if we could get them operational again, if we had ships and a market – ” She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. “Lanniscorp has ships. Jaime says Lannisport is thinking of making a bid for the world games.”

“Why should we ship marble all the way from Tarth when there are perfectly serviceable sources in the Westerlands?” Cersei asked. “You realise that’s the first thing Father will ask.”

Brienne raised her own brows. “Find a way to convince him,” she said, determined. 

Two hours later they had hammered out a serviceable agreement, written in long-hand in Cersei’s journal. They all signed and dated it, and Brienne gathered the book up and said that she would put it in a safety-deposit box for safekeeping. 

She felt wrung out and exhausted, shocked by her own daring and terrified that she had somehow sold her soul to the devil. 

“Brienne,” Jaime said, “there’s one more thing.” 

Brienne closed her eyes, not at all sure that she could handle whatever he would throw at her next. She wasn’t at all sure that she liked Jaime at the moment; she just wanted to be rid of both twins so that she could think clearly without Cersei’s perfume wreathing her senses – 

“What,” she said tersely. 

“The only way I can get 10 million dragons by the end of the month is if I access my inheritance. It’s tied up in trust until I turn 21, or until I marry.” 

It took longer than it should for Brienne to work through the implications. 

“No,” she said, “oh no, you’re not suggesting –”

Jaime looked upset. “It’s the only way to get so much money so quickly.” 

“No,” she said again, “no, and no, and no –”

“Oh, stop whining,” Cersei said sharply. “Do you want the money or not? I told you – we’re all in this together now. We may as well make it official.” 

Brienne felt physically sick. She thrust open the door and stumbled out into the corridor, suddenly desperate for air. 

Jaime followed her out.

“Brienne –”

Pushed beyond her limit, she clenched her fist, reared back and punched him. There was a horrible crunching noise and he dropped like a stone, blood pouring from his nose. 

“Fuck!” he hissed. 

Cersei appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowed angrily. “What on earth – you broke his nose!”

“Who broke whose nose?” Three rooms down, Ygritte poked her head out, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Brienne – what have you done to Jaime?” 

“Nothing!” Brienne gripped Jaime’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “He surprised me, that’s all.” 

All around them now, doors were opening and women were peering out curiously.

Jaime coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes laughing – 

“All I did was ask her to marry me,” he announced – to a chorus of squealing cheers and delighted approval. 

** 

Despite everything, she hauled him to the emergency room and sat with him as the doctor fixed his nose. By the time they finally made it back to their dorm room, it was nearly midnight – Jaime had two spectacular black eyes, and she was more tired than she could ever remember. 

“Why?” she asked. “Tell me that much, at least.”

He collapsed on to his bed, long and lanky and bedraggled, and only sighed. “I love Cersei,” he said simply. “I’ve always loved her. It’s always been the two of us, together against the world.” 

The words were like a dagger in Brienne’s heart. 

“And me? I thought –” 

He winced and shifted uncomfortably. “You’re my best friend, Brienne,” he said. “I like spending time with you. I did mean what I said, about being a team.”

“But you and Cersei –” she stopped. “Your _sister_ , Jaime!”

“We can’t choose who we love.” He looked at her. “But if I can’t marry Cersei, I’d prefer you to anyone else.”

** 

She only wished that she could break his nose again. 

** 

They were married the next Saturday at Casterly Rock. Jaime and Cersei introduced her to their father, Tywin Lannister. 

Two weeks later, Brienne made a repayment of 10 million dragons to the Iron Bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I've just had a diabolical thought: somewhere there's an alternate universe of this fic where Brienne has to marry Cersei, not Jaime.]


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interns Brienne and Cersei spend three months working at Lanniscorp. (Please also see author's note.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author knows nothing about mining, shipping or internships.

During the three month break at the end of their first year, Brienne and Cersei flew out to Lannisport to begin their internship.

They rented an apartment together.

Jaime offered to come with them, but Cersei flatly vetoed the idea. “Can you imagine the three of us living together?” she asked, her voice sweet, her smile razor-sharp.

Piqued, he went backpacking in Essos.

**

**1 st Rotation – Weeks 1 and 2**

At the end of their first day, after the paperwork and the initial introductions, the Intern Co-ordinator gave them their first assignments.

One by one, the interns were assigned to a rotation. Some went to Finance and HR, or Marketing and Legal. Some went to the mail-room, or to IT, or to obscure teams that Brienne had never even heard of.

Finally it was only Brienne and Cersei left.

“Ms Tarth,” the Co-ordinator said, “and Ms Lannister. You’ve both been assigned to work in the mines.”

Cersei was wearing a sleek black dress with sheer stockings and towering heels. She was perfectly made up, her hair styled so that it fell in loose curls down her back – she’d taken forever in the bathroom that morning. Brienne was wearing her tailored suit and trousers, with a pair of glossy leather heeled boots for confidence.

“Report at 4am tomorrow to the foreman at the caverns below Casterly Rock. You’ll be issued appropriate shoes, clothing and PPE.” Though the Co-ordinator’s tone was perfectly professional, there was a hint of a smug smile on her lips.

Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “The mines?” she asked.

“By the CEO’s direct order,” the Co-ordinator said, clearly enjoying herself.

Cersei stormed up to the CEO’s office, Brienne trailing along behind her, only to be met by closed doors and his implacable executive assistant.

“If you have been assigned to work in the mines,” the assistant said, “then clearly Mr Lannister means you to do so. Unless you don’t wish to continue your internship…?” she trailed off, raising her brows at Cersei and smiling. 

**

Right on the dot of 4am the next morning, Brienne and Cersei reported to the foreman of the mines.

He was a big man with a thick beard and a strong handshake. He looked them both up and down – his eyebrows going up – and gave them ugly orange jumpsuits embroidered with their names, steel-capped boots and hard hats.

“The mines at Casterly Rock have been in continuous operation for thousands of years,” he said, as he walked them through the operations. “The tunnels extend more than three thousand metres below the ground, and the veins of ore run deeper still. At that extreme depth, the temperature is more than 45 degrees Celsius – the lowest levels are air-conditioned.” 

Despite herself, Brienne was fascinated. There were marble mines on Tarth, but they were more like quarries; this was on a scale she had never before imagined.

The first day was mostly training, safety inductions and paperwork.

On the second day they were handed over to a supervisor and put to work not in the control room, but in the tunnels themselves.

“These days, of course, it’s no longer a matter of hacking away at the rock face with a pick-axe,” their supervisor said. “But it’s still hot and dirty work.”

By the end of their shift, they were both hot and sweaty and exhausted. When they emerged into the light of day, they staggered over to their car and drove back to their apartment, where they had only enough energy to shower and eat and stagger into their beds.

When their alarms went off at 3am the next morning, Brienne dragged herself out of bed. Cersei was awake, too, nursing a cup of coffee and looking grimly determined.

“He’s not going to make me quit.” She fixed Brienne with her angry green eyes. “Don’t even dare think it.” 

At 4am, they reported for their third day.

For the first week they worked in the tunnels, drilling, loading explosives and removing muck. It was hot and dirty manual work, and Cersei’s nails broke and Brienne’s hands grew blisters. But eventually they moved to the control room in the second week. 

By the time the rotation was finished, they were both exhausted beyond imagining.

**

**2 nd Rotation – Weeks 3 and 4**

The email announcing their next rotation arrived on Friday afternoon.

“The cargo ships!” Cersei snarled.

At 4am on Monday morning, they reported to the docks at Lannisport harbour. Forewarned, they wore heavy canvas work-wear and their steel-capped boots, and each carried a small duffel bag packed with clothes, toiletries and their passports.

They were assigned to a ship called _Bright Roar,_ bound for Pentos. It smelled of oil and metal and salt water, and their berth was a tiny room with two bunk beds.

Cersei immediately claimed the bottom bunk.

**

It was hard work, and the seas rounding Dorne were rough and unpredictable. They weathered heavy storms near Starfall, the ship ploughing through the waves, spray sweeping over the deck as they clung to life ropes whenever they had to go on deck.

Cersei was seasick during the worst of it, but remained determined.

Brienne loved it.

**

They were harassed by pirates near the Stepstones. But there were two black-clad security officers on board, and they shot at the swarm of swift inflatable boats, sinking two before the pirates gave up the chase.

**

Finally, two weeks after they boarded in Lannisport, they were set ashore in Pentos.

**

**3 rd Rotation – Weeks 5 and 6**

The Deputy Manager of Overseas Operations met them and took them through Lanniscorp’s overseas holdings.

“We do most of our manufacturing overseas now,” he explained, as he mentioned factories in Pentos, Tyrosh and Myr.

Brienne was concerned about factory conditions and possible exploitation of the overseas workers.

Cersei eyed her narrowly. “Let’s see first,” she said. “And if you don’t like it, work your way up the company and change things.”

Brienne snorted. “If you’re not careful, I will.”

They’d been in each other’s continuous company for a month. They’d worked long hours of hard manual labour, had seen each other dirty and exhausted and in pain. Brienne had seen Cersei first thing in the morning without make up.

They both knew, by now, how stubborn and determined the other was.

 _Don’t let Cersei run roughshod over you_ , Jaime’s aunt Genna had said at the wedding. _Show her that you’re just as strong_.

They met with Lanniscorp’s overseas manufacturing partners and toured the factories. Cersei gained an understanding of how business was done in Essos, and Brienne talked to the workers when she could, trying to get an idea of how they were treated.

**

**Rotation 4 – Weeks 7 and 8**

Back to Lannisport, and finally they returned to the company offices.

For the first time they had the chance to catch up with some of the other interns, who spoke of long hours spent fetching coffee, photocopying, filing and running various errands.

“Where were you two posted?” they asked.

Brienne and Cersei exchanged glances.

“Never you mind,” Cersei said.

**

The first week they were split between the mail room and IT.

In the mornings they collected and delivered mail and parcels. They organised couriers and archived files and made sure all the electronic records were up to date.

And then in the afternoons they learned about computers and electronic systems and all sorts of other things Brienne couldn’t pretend to understand.

“I don’t understand any of it,” Brienne said, half-despairing. “I don’t know anything about computers.”

“Well, now’s your chance to learn,” their supervisor said brightly.

That week was a disaster that Brienne never, ever wanted to remember.

**

“Too much for you?” Cersei asked sweetly, over their late-night dinner of instant noodles and beer. 

“I can do anything you can,” Brienne growled.

**

The second week they spent split between Marketing and HR.

This was more what Brienne had expected her internship to be. She enjoyed the work and found it interesting enough. But compared to their previous rotations, she found it strangely lacking in excitement.

Cersei was even more bored.

“I want to be at the centre of it all,” she complained to Brienne. “I want to see the excitement and the danger. I want to know what’s going on.”

**

**Rotation 5 – Weeks 9 and 10**

Finance and Legal.

Here at last, they could get an idea of the company’s financial workings and the sorts of difficulties that plagued them.

Cersei’s aunt Genna was the head of Legal, and her uncle Kevan the Chief Financial Officer; though Brienne and Cersei were shown no favouritism, they were invited to sit in on briefings and were expected to be able to comment on what they heard.

Here was the stress and long hours she had imagined, the buzz and hurry hurry hurry of urgent deadlines.

Cersei thrived on it, spending all day running here and there on her towering heels, returning late at night to their apartment, exhausted – only to get up in the morning and do it all again.

Brienne enjoyed it, but found herself even more weary than she had been after a long day of working in the mines.

**

**Rotation 6 – Weeks 11 and 12**

Finally, finally, they were assigned to the CEO’s office.

Cersei could hardly contain herself.

“My mother took us in once to see Father at work,” she said. “He was wearing his suit, and he looked so important, so in charge of everything around him. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to be just like him.”

They rode the elevator up, up, up to the very top floor. The circular foyer had a huge wall to wall glass window, through which they could see all across Lannisport and clear to Casterly Rock, and the vast expanse of the Sunset Sea.

Tywin Lannister himself was there to greet them. 

“Cersei,” he said, looking down his nose over his spectacles, “and Brienne. Well, at least my daughter – and my daughter-in-law – have an interest in this business, even if Jaime does not. Come,” he said, leading them to a little room off the foyer. “This will be your station.”

They had hardly settled into their respective desks and logged on to their computers before he issued his first impossible order.

“But –” Brienne said, “how can we possibly…?”

Cersei turned on her. “Listen to me,” she hissed. “We’ve slaved in the mines and on the ships, we’ve spent weeks working our way up and now we’re finally, finally on the top floor, so don’t you dare tell me that we can’t possibly do the first thing my father orders. If we give up at the first hurdle, it’ll be the end of any chance we have of ever winning his approval, do you hear me?” She leaned in, put her face very close to Brienne’s, and whispered in her ear. “I will not hesitate to throw you under the bus. And then where will your precious island be?”

Brienne reared back, alarmed. Cersei’s eyes were glittering. “So stop saying it’s impossible and let’s _find a way_.”

They found a way.

And then the next impossible order came, and then the next, and the next.

Every night for those last two weeks – even on the weekends – Tywin Lannister kept them working until after midnight. He seemed inexhaustible, always demanding more and more of them, and then still more.

They learned more from working from him than they had in their whole first year at university. He fired questions at them, waiting impatiently for their answers, and sneered if they fumbled; Brienne quickly learned not to say that she didn’t know, because then he would simply say _find out_.

It was the most terrifying, exhilarating, exhausting two weeks of Brienne’s life.

It seemed to both last forever and rush past in a blur.

And when it was finally done, Tywin Lannister looked at them both and gave them grudging nods.

“Next time,” he said, “I’ll see if you can handle more difficult tasks.”

**

When they left the Lanniscorp building for the last time, at the end of a truly marathon three months, it was to find Jaime waiting for them, leaning against the bumper of his red, low-slung Valyrian. His hands were in his pockets.

He was tanned golden-brown, his hair brighter and shaggier than ever, and he had grown a beard. He looked careless and free, his smile open and warm.

He’d been backpacking in Essos while they slaved away, desperate to win the approval that he so carelessly despised.

“Well?” he asked. “How was it?”

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who have followed this story and left comments and kudos, I thank you for your support. 
> 
> However, I have decided to discontinue this story. I only write because I enjoy it, and I've found myself no longer enjoying writing this. 
> 
> If you would like to know what happens next, here are a few possible endings: 
> 
> A: Brienne sticks it out at Lanniscorp only long enough to earn enough knowledge and contacts to save Tarth, and then takes off back to her island to administer a foundation for its development; 
> 
> B: Brienne and Cersei rise through the ranks, bound together despite (or because of) their enmity, with Tywin pitting them against each other, until they discover they have more in common with each other than anyone else; 
> 
> B(i): Brienne wins and becomes Tywin's successor and uses her power and wealth to save Tarth, while taking the reins at Lanniscorp and Casterly Rock; 
> 
> B(ii): Cersei wins and ousts Brienne and she goes back to Tarth in what she thinks is disgrace, only to realise that she's lost touch with the island, and then proceeds to pick herself up and live her best life;
> 
> And so on. I like to imagine that it all somehow ends with Brienne living her best life on Tarth, with or without a sizeable divorce settlement. I leave it up to you whether or not Jaime follows her when she leaves, or 10 years later they find each other again, or whether Tyrion finally grows up and takes over from all of them. 
> 
> Thank you again for your support, and my apologies for putting such an abrupt end to this fic.


End file.
